


Frisky F/O February 2020

by Korpuskat



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, F/O February, Frisky February, Other, Solo Triplets AU, Tagged by chapter, Triplet AU, gonna reiterate the rape/noncon tag though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korpuskat/pseuds/Korpuskat
Summary: A mash-up of prompts from Slashthedice's Friskyfebruary and F/O February for some kinky reader inserts(prompts subject to change, please heed the tags)
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Damon Salvatore/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Matt the Radar Technician/Kylo Ren/Ben Solo/Reader, Matt the Radar Technician/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 121
Collections: Thirst Order Triplet AU





	1. Prompt List

Here are the raw prompts, obviously some are subject to change (looking at kids/pets lol). I'll edit these to include who their character is as I do them/decide them. If you have any particular requests for characters (or ideas for Day 29's free day) feel free to comment :0

1\. Dirty talk + Reverse Selfship w/ Damon Salvatore (TVD)  
2\. Choking + Wedding w/ Danny Johnson|Ghostface (DBD) **[tw: noncon]**  
3\. Breeding + Beach w/ Kylo Ren (Star Wars)  
4\. Spanking + First Date w/ Damon Salvatore (TVD) **[tw: noncon]**  
5\. Aftercare + Favorite AU w/ Kylo, Ben, and Matt Organa-Solo (Star Wars)  
6\. Somnophilia + Crossover w/ Danny Johnson (DBD) **[tw: noncon]**  
7\. Cockwarming + Music w/ Brahms Heelshire  
8\. Waxplay + Pets w/ General Hux  
9\. Con Non Con + Platonic F/O  
10\. Double Penetration + Domestic  
11\. Knives + Angst  
12\. Stuffing + outfit swap  
13\. Thigh Riding + Tea Party  
14\. Breast Worship + Valentine’s Day  
15\. Orgasm Denial + Historical  
16\. Blood + Friend’s Selfship  
17\. First Time + Coffee Shop AU  
18\. Threesome + Love Confession  
19\. Bondage + Movie Night  
20\. Video Taping + Roadtrip  
21\. Leather or Lace + Time Travel  
22\. Collar/Leash + Formal  
23\. Oral + First Kiss  
24\. Panty Stealing + Under an Umbrella  
25\. Daddy/Mommy + Picnic  
26\. Electricity + At An Aquarium (NOOOOO)  
27\. Roleplay + Sharing a Milkshake  
28\. Exhibitionism + Stargazing  
29\. Degredation + Tea


	2. Damon Salvatore | Reverse Selfship + Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reverse-selfship is where your fictional other (f/o) selfships with _you._
> 
> Basically it's just Damon jerking off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on my [Tumblr](https://www.korpuskat.tumblr.com/post/190588800857/frisky-fo-february-day-1)

As the headboard knocks into the wall, Damon finds himself once more appreciative of Stefan’s ruse of being a high schooler. The absolute certainty that his brother will be out of the house all day– and Damon has nothing better to do than what he woke up thinking about. 

He listens for a moment _just_ to be sure that he’s alone– even if he isn’t, he’s had nearly a century to burn out the last of his shame since he’s stopped _saving himself_ – before grabbing his laptop. Normally he’d just take himself in hand and go to town, maybe go find something pretty enough, someone who sort of looks _like you-_ but today, Damon wants to try something. That little urge in the back of his head whispers on about what a good idea it is, that there’s no beating the original. 

He should find it weird, like, really weird. But it can’t be any worse than anything he’d done in the century and a half he’d waited for Katherine. And besides you were the first thing, the first _person_ that had made him feel- 

He makes the decision, starts an episode and closes his eyes as you appear on screen. He listens to your voice- it’s just plain dialogue but it gets his mind going; he can imagine it– what you’d sound like, moaning under him. That’s all it takes to get him to shuck his pants and roll over onto his stomach. He pictures you, presses his face into his pillow and growls- takes himself in hand.

He moans your name once and it’s like a dam breaking, words spill from him, first in drops, then in rivers and torrential floods of words falling from his lips. “Fuck,” Your voice fills his head. “I want you so much, want to fill you up and make you _scream.”_ He trails off on a choked noise, the imagery building in his mind. “Make you cum and taste all you,” He wants it- wants to taste every inch, every droplet- and he wants to _bite_ and _feed_ and savor your blood and in his mind he can see it: 

Fucking you, sinking into that living, _pulse-hot_ body, and when you cry out, when your nails dig into his shoulders he sinks his fangs into you and you _love it._ The fantasy becomes too much. Damon bites his pillow and wishes he tastes iron and copper, huffs through the cotton, “Fuck, _fuck!”_

He comes in violent shudders and all he can hear is your voice. 


	3. Danny Johnson | Wedding + Choking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Noncon Warning** also gaslighting.
> 
> You're getting married to someone else. Danny has to punish your mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on my 

“Do you think they know?” He asks and you thank everything you can think of that his voice is rough and husky and _quiet._ You can take this- you’ve survived this before, too many times before. So long as nobody heard him, you’ll be fine.

You don’t answer him, press your eyes closed and hope he’ll be quick this time. Hope that he won’t talk so much, but-

His fingers, so thin and delicate with his writer’s callous, knot into your hair and tug you back to him. This time it is a demand. “Do they know?”

“Know what?” You manage, you voice doesn’t even break. It will, you’re sure.

He lifts your skirts, white fabric pooling around your waist as he fights to reach what he wants. “That you’re a cheating _slut.”_

You know it’s a lie, that he’s twisting it all around again— it’s what he does, you tell yourself. It doesn’t change the pain that slices through you. Danny has everyone fooled; he could convince them that’s what this was if he wanted. He could even convince you. 

You answer him this time. “No.” They can’t know. Nobody can ever know- nobody can help you. 

He rips through your tights, shoves the mess of fabric about your thighs. You know better than to fight- and you know better than to try to make it easier on yourself. 

He laughs in that low, cruel way, the noise that haunts your every moment. It’s the last siren before the storm. “Your fiancé is out there. Waiting for their perfect wedding night and here you are,” he pauses, huffs, and lines himself up. It’s a small mercy he doesn’t toy with you more. “Begging for my cock.”

The tears run down your cheeks; you can only focus on what lie you can manage. Wedding nerves, that’s all- just have to redo your hair and makeup, Danny’s hand wraps around your throat. He pulls you back against him. You sputter, grab at his wrist. _”Beg.”_ He pants against your skin. You feel the grin spread over his lips, “Or I could kill your sweet spouse-to-be.” You sob, hang your head- and Danny slides his nose through your hair, savors the scent of your shampoo. “After I tell them about this, though. Do you think they would cry?”

You don’t have to wonder if he’d make good on that; he always does. So you bite back bile and whisper through the hand at your throat, “Please.” His thumb closes over your pulse in warning; you know better. The words come out hollow and you wish he’d killed you the first time. “Please, fuck me, Danny.”

His fist closes around your throat and he pushes into you. The cry is strangled before it can even leave your chest- replaced by Danny’s deep groan loud in your ear. With his chokehold you can’t even protest his noise, can’t beg him to quiet the sounds of rustling clothes and slapping skin. 

“You’re so good to me,” He praises you between thrusts. His tone is so sweet it makes your head spin harder than the hypoxia. The pressure in your head builds and you struggle not to faint against him. “You made a mistake, I know, but I’ll always look out for you.” He kisses the shell of your ear and the world shifts as your head bobs back, lays amicably on his shoulder. He hand follows your every move, pressed tight over the delicate bones in your neck. “I’ll always take care of you.” 


	4. Kylo Ren | Vacation + Breeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You become the Supreme Leader's spouse, there are certain duties expected of you.
> 
> (not intended to be noncon, but Reader isn't super thrilled about the situation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on my [Tumblr!](https://www.korpuskat.tumblr.com/post/190636649902/frisky-fo-february-day-3)

Lavender waves rise and fall in the distance, gentle sounds of crashing water, the sharp cries of the planet’s native birds circling overhead. Across the whole seascape, not a single ship mars its pristine surface. The benefits of your mock marriage are not lost on you, even if you’d prefer not to think of the life you have been assigned.

“This isn’t really a vacation.” His voice cuts through your thoughts- you wonder if he has already peeked into your mind. 

“It’s our _honeymoon.”_ You reply, dig your toes into the fine, white sands. “For our _loving union.”_

You shouldn’t prod him like this. The wound is still too raw, but the ache between your legs from last night’s attempts keep the bitterness fresh. “Purposeful union.” He corrects. Sand crunches under his boots as he comes to stand behind you. His fingers push through your hair- and he is still wearing his gloves. Synthleather trails around the curve of your ear, down the long line of your neck. “You should be honored.” 

You are. In a strange way, you are honored- all of the First Order to choose from and the Supreme Leader picked you. And being picked gave you privileges. Like staring out at purple water with the heat from the system’s binary star warming your skin. Being planetside for something other than shore leave for the first time in… you can’t even recall. But it still hurts- there was no love, no emotion in Kylo Ren’s choice. And that hurts, to have that future, that possibility taken from you.

You don’t have to dwell on it long. Kylo’s lips find your neck where he had touched. Gloves hands find your arms and he shoves- 

The airy, decadent robes he had selected for you do little to protect your knees from the impact, but the sand is soft and caves under your weight. Sand crunches behind you; thin fabric sheers in his grasp. This part, at least, is easy. 

The leather of his gloves slides between your legs, parts your still swollen folds with ease. You’re still tender, but it doesn’t really matter; his touch is all-knowing, delicately balanced between pleasure and overstimulation. There’s no use complaining, so you lower your forehead to your arms, arch your back. 

He purrs low in his throat, “That’s it. Give in to me.” He rewards your submission with the cautious, measured stroke of his thumb over your clit. Sparks dash up your spine- and fade as Kylo unbuckles his belt. His cock is warm and hard against you- the sudden sensation makes you jolt. He grinds against you, lets your slick slide over him. Even as sensitive as you are, your cunt is still pliant and stretched from his last attempt.

He fills you- liquid pleasure races through you, makes your toes curl and your mouth drop open in silent praise. It doesn’t matter how quiet you try to be; Kylo is in your mind already, knows exactly what you need. He shifts your hips. His first thrust drags just _so_ sweetly inside you. 

One gloved hand keeps your hips in place while the other crawls around under you. You expect him to go for your clit, but instead he grabs at your belly. “I can’t wait.” He says somewhere behind you. “To fill you with cum.” 

You clench, move back against him as he continues on, cock pumping into you. “It’s the only purpose you serve.” 

The base instinct deep inside takes over before you can stop yourself, _“Yes.”_ Your teeth sink into your lip and you bury your face in your arms before you can embarrass yourself more. You hate that his words make your skin tingle, makes your cunt tighten around him- and you hate more that he’s right. 

“You exist only for my pleasure, for _my_ needs.” The hand at your hip tangles in your hair and Kylo wrenches your head back. You hiss at the pain shooting over your scalp, but the next stroke of his cock obliterates any protestation. “And I am going to cum inside you over and over again,” His fingertips dig into your stomach. “Until it takes root.” 

A broken moan escapes your lips and drags the rest of your dignity out with it. “Please, please, Kylo- _ah!”_ He twists his hand in your hair, his voice echoing in your skull: _No._ “Sir!”

He gasps behind you, huffs through clenched teeth- until his pace stutters. Warmth floods deep within you- and with Kylo’s next thrust it drips obscenely down your thighs. The hand over your stomach slides down and finally- finally returns to your clit. He rubs you in fast circles- with his cock still stretching you open, his words ringing in your head- 

Pleasure whites out your senses, everything erased from your mind except the pressure inside you and Kylo’s hand still working at your clit, dragging you through each wave of your orgasm. He keeps going, right up to the edge of being painful- and stopping. His hand releases your hair and you crumple into the sand.

Kylo withdraws and makes your walls sting- but you can do little more than lie there and try to catch your breath. He wipes himself off with the remnants of the robe, before standing. His belt clicks as he adjusts himself. 

“We will have dinner soon.” He says, his boots already sliding in the sand as he turns away. “We will try again after.” 


	5. Damon Salvatore | First Date + Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you have a lovely first date with Damon, but the follow-up isn't as good. 
> 
> **tw: noncon, mind control ******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my favorite so far, but you know. It still got me to write!

“I have to admit, I was… pleasantly surprised.” You joke, turn to face the guest on your porch. You fiddle with your ring, spinning it around your finger. “When you’re not _intentionally_ causing trouble, you can actually be kind of fun to be around.” 

Damon grins down at you, shows off those too-white teeth, his canines just a touch too prominent. So close and still playing up his charm, he makes your heart race- you wonder if he knows. “Aw, that’s so kind of you to say.” He pauses, gives you a roguish side-eye. “And naive to think I didn’t cause trouble.”

“You _did_ compel the waiter to spill that annoying woman’s drink! I knew it!” You laugh, give his arm a playful swat. 

He holds his hands up, mocking surrender to your weak, mortal attack. “In my defense, it was so much better after she left, though.” 

“Absolutely.” You step back, turn towards your door and dig out your keys. You smile to yourself, feel the blush creep into your cheeks. “It was… it was nice, actually.” You turn the key, glance over your shoulder at Damon. “Especially for a first date.” 

You step inside, just past the threshold, and turn back towards him. Damon steps intentionally closer, the bright blue of his eyes darkening. “First date? It really felt more like the third.” 

You snort, roll your eyes at him and lean against the doorframe. “Nice try, Damon.” You raise a finger, “Drinking at the only bar in town does _not_ count as a date. Otherwise you should be proposing to Alaric soon.” 

And Damon steps ever closer right up to the threshold. Piercing blue eyes stare down at you and if you weren’t careful you could get lost in them- even with your vervain on. You touch your ring to be sure, hold your breath as his gaze dances over your face, glances down to your hands. “So a good first date, but not good enough to invite me in?” 

You bite your lip and look away. How chivalrous of him to mind the doorway even when you’ve already _invited him_. “Look, Damon. I…” You sigh, try to fight through the messy feelings he inspires in you. “I really, _really_ like you.” You meet his pale eyes and implore him to understand. It’s not rejection, it really isn’t- “And I would like to see you again… But I’ve seen how _casual_ relationships with vampires tend to end up for the humans, _and_ I’ve seen your track record with relationships first hand. If this is only about sex or blood for you, then just say so, before this gets out of hand.” 

A peculiar look tightens his face- but you dare to hope because he doesn’t seem dejected or angry. It’s more- pensive, you think. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

You huff a laugh, look down to Damon’s feet. Your heart breaks at it even being a possibility in his mind. You should know better- he’d sleep with almost anyone who looked at him, the flirting beforehand was just a plus. “There’s easier prey out there.” 

“I’m a vampire.” He says- and it’s flat. You look up to him, expect that hurt look in his eyes now and still only find him contemplating you. “We’re predators. We _like_ the hunt.” 

He moves faster than you can process; his hand darts across the threshold and grabs yours, the other ripping your ring right off your finger. Your hand burns and you hiss, try to pull out of his grasp- which is laughable. He steps past the doorway, closes the door with his foot. 

You stare up at him with wide eyes, curl your hand into his. He still holds your hand, pockets the ring. He’s surprisingly tender and his face twists with some emotion you can’t name.

“Damon?” Your voice is hardly a whisper. 

His face smooths and he stares down at you- and you fall into those beautiful eyes. The world around you quiets, dissolves away- “Tell me. How do you really feel about me?”

He’s compelled you. You’re embarrassed, ashamed, and you want to keep it down, want to swallow the words the flow as easily as the budding tears. “I don’t know.”

His face falls for a moment. He doesn’t say anything and the compulsion makes you continue, “You’ve done terrible things and even though I like you, it’s hard to set that aside. I don’t know how I could be with you and even be able to look at Caroline or Matt or Elena… and I’m afraid you’ll break my heart.” 

“Is it broken now?” He asks, tips his head to look closer at you.There’s a darkness in his voice, a solemn hollow pit that makes you want to run as far as you can. The same feeling, that same connection overtakes you, pulls you under the crashing wave of his will. “Now that I’ve stolen your ring and compelled you?”

Hot tears roll over your cheeks. “Yes.” 

Damon quiets, looks away. You close your eyes and hope he just leaves, perhaps wipes this from your memory, makes you think he gave you a chaste goodnight kiss on your front porch- He speaks again, still laced with his power. “Do you want me? Or- did you, before?”

You can hardly breathe through the shame. “Yes.” 

He touches your arm and you lift your head again, your subconscious ready to accept anything that falls from his lips. “Don’t fight me.” 

Alarm makes you tense, but you can’t do anything more than that. He kisses you and it’s everything you’d so hoped it would be. His lips are cool and plush and every part of you wants to shove him off you. But the kiss is short and Damon pulls away, much too satisfied with the stolen intimacy.

“You want me and wouldn’t even invite me in.” Damon tsks, lifts one finger in scolding. “I think someone needs to be punished. Really shouldn’t say ‘no’ to vampires.” 

Against the compulsion there is little you can do except plead. “Damon… Please.” 

He drags you by your arm into the living room- and even without the supernatural command to not resist, you doubt you could do much except let him pop the button to your pants. If Damon minds your silent crying, he doesn’t show it. 

“Now then, baby,” And his voice is so sweet you can nearly pretend this isn’t happening. He sits on your couch and tugs you towards him. He moves you how he wants- your belly laid over his lap- and as sick as it makes you, you let him. 

One cool hand brushes over your low back, down over the curve of your butt. Through your jeans he cups one cheek and squeezes, hums appreciatively. His fingers dip below the denim, under the elastic of your underwear. His touch is cold and you can’t suppress the shiver that follows his fingertips. There’s a reverence to his exploration, a softness unfitting the situation- 

and he turns his hand, grabs your pants and shoves them down your legs. Denim burns at your thighs, but the shame is hotter in your cheeks. He touches you for a moment more- 

You _scream_. You hadn’t even felt him lift his hand, but the impact had rocked your body across his lap, your nails biting into his jeans for anything at all to hold onto.

“Oops, sorry.” He says, only a twinge of remorse buried under the giddiness. He touches your burning cheek and rubs it softly. It’s soothing. His skin is still cool and it eases the pain radiating off your skin like cold water to a burn. “Forget my own strength.” 

You sniffle and close your eyes. His hand wanders over to the other cheek and rubs there for just a moment. 

“Let’s try this again.” 


	6. Solo Triplets | Aftercare + Favorite AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a kinky night with Kylo, Ben, and Matt, they get to take care of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted over on my [ Tumblr!](https://www.korpuskat.tumblr.com/post/190658093082/frisky-fo-february-day-5)

The room is entirely silent save for the slow panting, the slick sounds of sweat-covered flesh sliding together. Your limbs tremble, ache where you have thrashed against the restraints- and though it feels like forever since Ben had finally finished inside you, only moments have passed as the boys catch their breath. 

Matt says something and your collar tightens around your throat- you moan softly, whine into the sheets and you can’t tell if you you’re begging for more or to stop. It doesn’t matter because you’re not in control, not in control, entirely at their mercy and-

The collar loosens. Matt has undone the clasp, the padded leather falling away, replaced by thin, deft fingers working at the red line on your neck where the collar had dug in. The sweat cools on your skin and you begin to shiver, Matt’s talking again but it’s just buzzing in your mind. His cheeks flushed pink, those perfect blonde curls messed beyond recognition, heavy and limp from exertion. He cups your cheek and you flinch- and one of them is undoing the cuffs on your wrists. The other moving down to your ankles, rubbing where the spreader bar has left a mean indent on your leg.

“Baby?” You blink, look up to Matt’s big eyes, feel how he strokes your cheek. 

You’re in their room. Kylo holds one hand, rubs his thumb across your palm in soothing strokes. Ben lies at the end of the bed, watching you as you come back to yourself. “Hey,” Your voice cracks. You cough, touch your throat with the hand Kylo does not hold hostage. 

“You alright, honey?” Ben’s voice is rough, too.

You nod, not quite trusting your voice yet. 

Above you, Matt grins and leans down, presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. The bed dips and Kylo slides in behind Matt, lifts your head up into his lap. “You did great.” He rumbles, draws your hair away from your face. You close your eyes, lean into the brothers’ touch. 

“How’re you feeling?” Matt asks while Ben rests his head against your thigh. 

“Tired.” Your voice is still hoarse, sore from Kylo’s choking. “Thirsty.” 

Matt kisses your cheek, “I’ll be right back.” As he leaves you realize how warm he is- because without him against your side you’re almost cold. But Ben draping himself across your legs- apparently just as tired as you- and Kylo’s legs under your neck keep you comfortable enough. 

Matt returns with a cup and with Kylo’s help you sit up enough to drink a few sips. The water is cool and pleasant, refreshing against your overheated body. When you’re done, you lean back against Kylo’s chest and the boys drink. 

“Stop hogging it,” Ben mumbles, lifts himself up off your legs- and the sweat has stuck you together, your skin peeling off each other with an uncomfortable noise. 

“Ugh,” You complain- and then recall you have pressed yourself up to Kylo’s equally sweaty chest. Ben drinks with loud gulps before getting up and heading to the bathroom. With the extra room on the bed you cringe and begin to extricate yourself from Kylo’s arms. Bodily fluids of all sorts have dried over every inch of your skin, leaving you sticky. “I’m so gross…” 

“You’re not.” Matt kisses your cheek again.

“Sheets are a mess, too.” Kylo says, looking pointedly at the dark stain that covered most of the bed now. 

“And _whose_ fault is that, _Mattie?”_ Ben shouts from the bathroom.

Matt flushes red, mumbles a halfhearted “Shut up.” 

“Go rinse off.” Kylo nudges at your back, “I’ll start the laundry.” 

You nod, slide off the bed- and nearly topple over on your shaking legs. Ben catches your arm, eases you back up and guides you over to the bathroom. “Graceful as always.” 

You reward him with a light smack to his arm. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie?” 

“Yours.” Kylo calls from the bedroom.

“Fuck.” You step into the shower, lean against the cool tile. “Lemme rinse off first.” 

“Can’t think with all that cum in your ass?” Ben snickers, steals a kiss before you can retaliate. 

“I’ll get the pillows set up on the couch.” He offers in apology. “But if you let Matt talk you into _Zootopia_ again, I’m rioting.” 

You laugh, “I was actually thinking about _Nailed It._ ” You catch his hand before he can move too far away, giving him a quick squeeze. “Thanks. I’ll be out in just a minute.” 

Ben smiles- not his usual cocky grin or the ‘I know something you don’t’ half-smile. A real, genuine smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Anytime, doll.” 


	7. Danny Johnson | Crossover + Somnophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossover with [Rest for the Wicked](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/21574810) (Michael Myers/Reader). This fic has no major spoilers. 
> 
> You have caught Danny's attention, but you have a stalker of your own to protect you. At least on most nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw: noncon, stalking**
> 
> Originally posted over on [my Tumblr](https://www.korpuskat.tumblr.com/post/190682293117/frisky-fo-february-day-6)

He watches in the shadows, perched high up in the trees past what had once been a fence. Soon, he tells himself, one of these nights. He can’t keep staying up, waiting for his chance- his editor, Carol, had commented on his tiredness two days ago. He’d laughed it off, said he’d stayed up late bingeing documentaries on Netflix. Instead, he’s spent the better part of a week in this tree. 

It’s torturous, it’s _addicting_. By now he would’ve gotten better pictures, gotten close enough to sift through your cans. But there’s just one problem: 

You don’t live alone. 

He’s never made such a mistake before- he’d taken the time to learn every other aspect of your schedule, you _never_ left with anyone. Never mentioned your husband or boyfriend or father or roommate. Imagine Danny’s surprise, then, with a picture he’d taken of your house with a man in your window. 

If he hadn’t written up a piece about the anniversary, about tense months since the local serial killer had disappeared, Danny wouldn’t have recognized him. It was a challenge, the kind that made his mouth water, his hands tighten around the handle of his knife that he has cleaned four times since climbing into the tree. Soon, soon Michael would go out and kill- Danny sympathizes with him, all cooped up while the cops look for him- and soon, Danny would find his best prey yet. 

In the night, something shifts. And Danny’s heart hammers away in his chest- the back door to your house opens and a masked figure steps out into the moon light. Something metallic glints in the figure’s hand- and he scans trees outside your house. Danny is fast, he knows, he could outrun him- but with Danny’s dark robes and thick foliage of the trees, the shape does not see him. And in the night, Michael Myers stalks away from the house without even closing the door behind him.

Danny waits ten minutes before lowering himself out of the branches, just to make sure Myers is gone. He steps into the house, closes and locks the door. It’s a laundry room; silent save for Danny’s carefully muffled footsteps as he inches further in. 

It opens up to a long hallway- a straight shot to the front door. But first door to the right is cracked open and Danny strikes gold. The blankets have nearly fallen off the bed, revealing the single occupant, closest to the door: you. A sheet clings in vain to the shape of your exposed thigh, but everything else is revealed to him.

He wonders: do you always sleep naked? He toes into the room, digs out his camera and triple checks the flash is off. It’s a good look, natural- your hair tangled and fanned across your back, covering your face. He steps closer and smells it; sweat and sex and a sharp bitterness-

that matches the tacky pearlescence smeared between your legs. 

Perhaps you did not fall asleep at all. Danny stills and listens- counts the seconds until you take a deep, restful breath. In the low light he can pick out the bruises- new and old- over your thighs, the purples hidden under your hair, even across your arms and around your wrists. 

He wants so badly to know, just for his own satisfaction, of course, how this all started. Had the shape of a man he’d seen take from you as Danny did with his own victims? His thoughts halt all together. He had intended to go for the kill, if your guest was half as skilled as Danny is, he’d know something was out of place as soon as he returned.

But in your sleep you shift, the line of your spine stretching in the moonlight. And when has the Ghostface ever truly denied himself? 

He touches your thigh, delicate as he is when he crafts his articles, and you do not stir. Even through the leather of his gloves he feels the suppleness of your skin, the give of your flesh. The heat surges inside him. Thoughts of his knife cutting into that flesh, drawing out your pitiful whines- or have you developed a taste for pain with your new housemate? 

Danny glances to your face. He’s careful, patience. He draws your hair away from your face. You’re so peaceful now, despite what has happened, what is about to happen. His touch returns low, palming at the curve of your ass while his thumb slips between your legs. Danny bites his tongue behind the mask, feels his cock harden– you’re still _so_ slick the leather glides between your labia. So recently fucked, one finger slides inside, almost by accident. You don’t even notice. 

Danny withdraws and explores more, his finger dragging shiny cum with it. He slips lower and lower- your thighs twitch, he nudges against the underside of your clit. A wince passes over your face in your sleep. Still sensitive. Wet and warm, your heat soaking through his glove. The curiosity is too much, the sweetness of your sleeping face without the slightest hint of fear–

Danny’s never been much for second shifting, but it hardly matters. He’s never had the chance to try this before. He presses a knee onto the bed, works himself between your calves. The mattress dips and you murmur something unintelligible. He lifts his robes and perhaps for the first time he’s displeased in his own sense of dramatics. Holding the cloth up complicates unbuttoning his pants, but he manages. He fists himself, struggles not to jerk himself off right then because in the low moonlight he can see how his gloves are still slick. 

Your sleeping posture isn’t ideal for not waking you, on your belly and slightly turned, thighs not _nearly_ open enough for his hips- but that’s okay. He moves you as needed and finally he sees the flutter of your eyelashes, a noise trailing off in a wordless question- 

“Shh.” Danny touches your back. You sink back down, move along with him as fits himself between your legs. His cock fits against you like a puzzle piece, spreads your labia while your pussy makes him as slick as you are. 

He grinds against you- and you drop your head onto the pillow and whine. Your voice is broken, small in the darkness. “Michael, _please…”_

Was it a plea for _Michael_ to get on with it or to let you sleep? It had been so hard to decipher your strange relationship to the killer. Either way, Danny has no intentions of stopping now. His cock finds your still-stretched hole- still puffy and irritated from Michael’s use- and sheathes himself.

The taste of metal floods Danny’s mouth; his teeth buried in his own tongue to keep from moaning at the raw, liquid bliss. And in his silence he had heard a secret treasure too. Your fingers scratched at the sheets and you _hissed_ , your sore, abused cunt clenching around him in overstimulation. It still is clenching, milking at him. How funny it is, Danny muses, that your natural instinct to push him out of your body only makes him want to sink in deeper. 

He withdraws and the rasping little noise you make as he drags across those burning walls will be imprinted on his mind forever. But the thrust- filling you up again, bouncing against your hammered cervix- he can’t stop himself. He groans, tips his head back and savors the ecstasy for what it is. 

He feels it before you even say anything. Your body tightens around him, pulls another groan from his chest. Danny has to give himself credit for trying, but the fun always is in the reveal, anyway. 

“Michael?”

The barely-contained panic in your voice is delicious. Danny touches the knife sheathed at his hip. “Not quite, sweetheart.” 


	8. Brahms Heelshire | Music + Cockwarming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh I forgot to post this here. WHOOPS.

He trembles, his hips rocking in an involuntary rhythm. The porcelain mask rests cool against your shoulder and neck, tiniest puffs of his hot breath escaping with each little whine. And they’re soft, tiny little things- nearly buried under the sweet melody that slips from the record player.

“Shhh…” You stroke his back, card through his hair. “You’re being such a good boy. Just listen.” 

Brahms’s fingers twitch at your sides. He really is being so good, absolutely perfect. You kiss his unscarred temple, rub his back and whisper, “Just be patient… The song is almost over.” 

He murmurs something and it’s lost behind his mask. Your leg hurts and you shift, try to ease the growing cramp- 

Pain lances over your hips, ten bruises forming deep under your skin- and Brahms’s grip is iron tight. He ruts weakly, raises his head, pleads with his eyes. His self control is waning fast, and he wants-

he wants to be good, to be patient and gentle and to see that softness in your eyes when you praise him-

You catch his face in your hands so your thumbs edge just under. “It’s alright.”


	9. Armitage Hux | Pets + Waxplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely dedicated to Tora

“Shh, kitten, be good for me.” His voice makes you melt, makes you keen weakly and writhe against the restraints. How can he ask you to be good when it’s his fault you’re losing your mind? He knows exactly what he does to you and-

You hiss, throw your head back against the pillows; Hux smiles, moves the dripping candle up. The last drop finally cools, leaves your skin tingling from the brief burn, itching softly under the hardening wax. 

“Deep breath.” Hux prompts you- and you obey. He would move on and do it anyway if you didn’t obey, but you know it’ll help with the pain. He tilts the candle- and a barrage of white drops cascade over your chest- one lands perfectly over a nipple and rolls down over your breast.

You cry out, then bite your lip and try to breathe. The sting only lasts a moment, the thin trail of wax stiffens your nipple, flakes with each heavy inhale and whimpery, whining exhale. 

Hux grins, flashes those perfect teeth, “Alright, kitten, are you-” 

_“Mrow?”_

Hux’s sadistic smile drops into fond annoyance. You both wait for a moment, wonder if she’ll give up- but soon there’s another _Mrah?_ followed by the soft and very obnoxious sound of a paw scraping at the fresher’s door. 

It pulls you out of subspace immediately, the scene lost as you try not to laugh. “Did you feed her?”

Hux sighs, blows out the candle and sets it on the side table. “Yes.” He moves over to the bulkhead and opens it- and sure enough, a bright orange tabby saunters out of the ‘fresher, winding her way around Hux’s legs. He picks her up, the black leather of his gloves stark against her fur. He coos, “What’s wrong, darling?”

She purrs in response, headbutts his chin. 

“Going to untie me?” You pull at the restraints keeping your heads over your head. 

The smile returns and those green eyes slide over your form, “No, I don’t think I will.”


End file.
